


Moving Forward

by Santa_Cruz



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, dealing with death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santa_Cruz/pseuds/Santa_Cruz
Summary: How a mother copes with the loss of a daughter... You pray, you plead, and you would do anything for it not to be true.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Moving Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this was a step out of my comfort zone and my style of writing. Please be aware of the tags. Also, anything with an underline is a clickable link.

Your knees are shaking. You feel yourself being held up as you walk up the dirt path of Arcadia Bay's Cemetery. You stop because of the dizziness you feel. Others behind you stop to wait for you to recover; no one would think of walking past you. You glance back at the girl behind you dressed in a little black dress. She holds her hands together in front of her and she looks up from the ground at you with so much sorrow and loss. You feel another strong wave of heart-wrenching pain. _She played with her when they were little_. You have a memory of the two of them one summer drawing rainbows and unicorns on a plywood sheet in the backyard. Everything was perfect back then. Your knees buckle and the man holding you keeps you upright and waits for you to recover. He whispers, "Take your time, Joyce, I have you."

The ceremony was over before you knew it. It was all a blur. You just stared at the casket in front of you, not realizing that some of her friends and acquaintances had shown up for support and to console you. Your daughter's picture was displayed; it was a picture that you chose. She was smiling, she was happy… she was full of life. 

The Minister says his thanks to everyone who showed up for support. You just look ahead at her final resting place. You hear his words but take no solace in them. Your daughter is just a few feet away from you, lying in a box, and you have an agonizing realization that she will not be lying in her bed tonight or ever again. Your body begins to shake and you question everything in your life since the day she was born, of how you have failed her. How it was all your fault, starting with William's death. _I should've taken the bus home. I could've waited till the weekend like I was going to do. I should've walked home, it's a small town, it would've taken me twenty minutes. He would be alive… she would be alive._ You let out a sob.

A young lady steps quietly by your side with dark rings around her red eyes from crying and not sleeping. She hugs you, needing some human contact, saying she's sorry and that she misses her every second. You let out a small whimper at the contact of someone hugging you, wishing, praying that it wasn't your daughter lying there and all of this was a horrible dream. You make a promise that if it is a dream that you'll do better as a mother, you will give her your full attention to make sure she would be better. You knew she was slipping away from you since William's death. You tried therapy but you never reinforced her to keep going, she needed more support. You ask God to give you that one gift and tell you that this is all a horrible dream… but in the end, it's not.

You feel yourself being guided up the stairs by David. It's night and you wonder how that became, you were just… you think again about the casket and stop at a step. _She's not here_. He stops with you and holds you, patiently waiting until you are ready. He helps you with your clothes and gets you into bed. You lie down and he lays beside you, holding you, telling you that you are loved by him… but you feel nothing but sadness.

You wake up from a dream about your daughter. You find that your pillow and face are wet. The man that was holding you has turned over and is sleeping. Your head hurts so much from the pain and pressure so you get up from the bed for water and something for your headache. You open the door and step forward into the upstairs area and see her closed door. You feel the wave of pain again as reality sets in. You grab the railing for support. You walk to her door, put one hand on the doorknob and the other on the door. You pray that she's in there, in her bed sleeping or passed out from sneaking back in from a party. You wouldn't care, she would be in bed, safe, sleeping and alive. You pause for a moment when the knob is turned. At this moment you wish and hope and make deals with God for it to be a dream. You open her door and the scent of your daughter hits you. The light from her bedroom window illuminates the room and you can see a mass on the bed. It doesn't move.

You slowly walk into the room as your vision is blurred and your heart is compressed with the pain of the new heavy wound it bares. It will never mend. As you walk closer you see that it's her blankets, sheet and pillows from an unmade bed that's creating the silhouette of her. You let out a small cry at being denied your wish, your hope and unanswered prayer. It rips at you that this is your reality. You sit on the edge of her bed, looking at the empty space. The pain is so strong that you sob as you try to breathe. You lay down next to her pillow and beside the empty space and again, you wish, you hope, you make deals with God that she would be there. You haul her blanket towards you and you smell your daughter's scent. You clench your jaw and hold your breath as the pain hits you again. You bunch the blankets towards you along with the sheet; you hug them, smelling her and you let go. You cry and cry and cry and cry. You wail into the night that you want your baby back… but there's nothing you can say or do that will make it come true.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit in the dining room. The smoke from your cigarette slowly rises. The long ash falls off by itself into the full tray. You see the medication bottles that you take each day just to get through, untouched toast from this morning and cold coffee. You don't know what day of the week it is or even what month... time has no meaning to you.

You feel someone standing quietly by your side. You look up and see a face that makes you tear up immediately. Your daughter's friend is here to say goodbye. It was too much for her to stay in Arcadia. She says she can't continue here, knowing that her Captain died in a bathroom at school. She asks if it's okay to go up to her room one last time and take a few mementos. You nod and give her a small smile and brush the brown hair away from her red eyes that are still darkly rimmed from no sleep.

Some time passes and she returns with tear-stained cheeks, eyes redder than before and a small box of your daughter's personal items. She hugs you one last time, telling you that she wishes that this never happened. She urges you to take care, kisses you on the cheek and is gone… like your daughter.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You get up one morning and do your small routine. It's one small extra thing that you can do today that you didn't do yesterday; one extra little push into your 'new' routine. You walk out in your bare feet with your night clothes and robe on. You haven't changed your clothes in days. You walk to the end of the driveway and open the mailbox and retrieve what's in there.

You sit back down in your dining room chair, feeling drained, and light another cigarette. You look at the first bill that you don't know how to pay. The second bill that you could care less for and the third envelope that you open has the logo of the Prescott family crest. It contains the payout from the incident that took the life of your daughter. It's more money than you know what to do with; the house can be paid off, all the bills, car and home improvements; you can now afford health insurance and retirement… her university fund, the trip to Paris she wanted to take, her wedding, her first home. You drop the letter that the check is attached to and you look out the sliding door window and you feel nothing… no amount of money will ever bring her back.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are arguments. Yelling and shouting for weeks that turn into months. It seems that this once- loving home now has turned into a cesspool of sadness, depression, guilt and resentment. He begs you to seek help, says that he is trying his best to help you but doesn't know what to do anymore. "Please let me help you," he pleads, crying. You know he has tried. He has brought your friends to visit, he offers to drive you back and forth to therapy. He even has a doctor that comes by to check on your health, but you don't care. You try and read a book that got you through William's death. You get through the first three pages before you let it slip through your hand… nothing is going to help.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A new year has begun and you hear fireworks go off in the distance. You hear the yelling of people saying 'Happy New Year.' You sit alone in your home. It's just you now; everyone is gone. You take another puff of your cigarette as you sit amongst the old bills, piled up flyers and dirty dishes. You look at the sofa that you sleep on; you don't know when it was the last time you slept through the night or ate a full meal. You get up to use the washroom and your pants almost fall off of you. You hold them up and shuffle down the hallway. Your head is down, looking at each step you take as you go up the stairs. When you look up you keep your eyes on the bathroom door and not hers... hers only brings pain and if the door is closed then maybe you can imagine that she's in there, safe and sleeping… you never open the door anymore to find out. Her room is how she left it, frozen in time.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your routine has gotten you to the grocery store. You mindlessly walk down the aisles, putting things in your cart. You pass by the cereal and, without thinking, you grab her favorite one and place it in the basket. A woman is in front of you with her own cart. She says your name a few times to bring you out of your thoughts. You recognize her from somewhere. She talks with you, holding your arm to offer you support. You nod and give her a fake smile. She speaks to you, "Joyce, it's helping me deal with her death, please let me take you some time? You don't need to talk, you can just sit and listen to others. You need support, let me help you." Rose Amber, the mother of one of your daughter's friends; a friend who was also murdered by the same boy. You look at Rose, you see the pain behind her eyes and you tear up again and she holds you. "I miss my baby," you cry into her shoulder. Other people walk by, watching you, feeling your pain and loss because they all know what has happened in their small town. They wish that they could help you in some way but don't know how, so they tilt their heads to the floor as they push their carts down the aisle. Rose leaves her grocery shopping and helps you with yours. She places the items in her car and drives you back home because you chose to take the twenty minutes to walk to the grocery store. Rose helps you into your home and sees the state it's in. She doesn't berate you for living like this but guides you to your dining room chair and makes you a tea and a sandwich as she puts away your groceries. Rose notices that one cupboard is full of one type of kid's cereal; untouched boxes that haven't been opened. She places the new box with the others and looks at you with such sorrow, knowing your pain. You sit together for some time and talk about anything. Rose does most of the talking, which you don't mind. You hear of changes around Arcadia. The Prescott Pan Estates was bought by another company. The family had moved away from Arcadia Bay after the trial and the new developer will break ground in the late spring. Rose mentions that a lot of fishermen who were once out of work will be given jobs. The new developer wants the community involved to bring this little town to a thriving tourist getaway. 

She eventually leaves for the day and gives you a business card. It's for a support group for loved ones who have passed away. Rose tells you that she still goes after all these months, it helps her when she needs the extra support now that she's divorced and living on her own. _"Rachel may have not been my daughter by blood, but she was my daughter in every other way, and I still miss her."_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your new routine is a longer one, a full day. You're back to work at the diner that has seen some changes since you were away. There is a new owner. Charlie, the previous owner, decided to retire and has moved closer to be with his son and daughter in Portland. The new owner is a young man in his thirties. He's happy, outgoing and loves the business. His first change was to get rid of the old cash register and replace it with a tablet. It takes some time for you to learn how to use it. A waitress in her teens shows you how. Once, Charlie needed you to help with ordering food and balancing the books every month, but this computer setup does everything for the new owner. You realize the change and move forward, struggling with your day. Every once and awhile, you look at a specific booth seat and it brings you a little comfort. During the afternoon, as you pour some coffee for a customer, you overhear Officer Berry talk with his partner about how someone is now living in a trailer in Arizona. You take a deep breath and let it out. You go to your purse and retrieve your medication and take one with water. You take a few moments in the back to get your emotions under control then go back to work… _David deserves to find peace and happiness. I should give him a phone call_.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You go back to work after a long weekend. The boss gave everyone the time off. You spend it on the couch watching infomercials or sitting at the dining table staring out the window. You put the key in the diner door. You're opening for today and you walk into the diner and the smell of fresh new paint hits your nose. It's not all that you notice. You look around, wide-eyed in shock. Gone is the long, single bench table, replaced by cafe-style tables that seat two. Gone is the gum machine, local brochures and the Two Whale Diner shirt that hung up in the corner. You walk to the right, looking at the new layout. The trophy shelf is gone, along with the jukebox. You turn at the second last booth seat and see that all of them have been replaced with new ones. You tear up immediately, stumble back into a chair and start crying. _That was her spot in the diner_ … They've taken that away from you.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You relapse. You haven't gone to work in over a week. You hear a message left for you on the answering machine. It's your new boss telling you to take all the time you need. He wishes you well and says that your check will be in your account by tomorrow and a job will be waiting for you when you are ready to come back. You don't care, you don't need a job. You have so much money now from the payout… but it's still not enough, it's not what you need.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You quietly sit in your daughter's truck on a cold evening in a parking lot, smoking a cigarette. You watch people make their way into the Hillsboro community center. You wipe your eyes and slowly open the squeaky door and let the cold air wrap around your neck. You finish your smoke along the way to the entrance and stand before the door. You open it and walk in, holding yourself; you're not cold, you just want to be held. You see people sitting in fold-out chairs in a room. Rose sees you but she doesn't wave you over to sit next to her. She smiles a small smile and lets you find your own seat in the back, away from everyone. You sit and listen, taking in the words of pain and the comfort of being around people in the same situation as you. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time has passed. You come to work every day without complaint. Your co-workers and boss urge you to take your vacation time, you've earned it. You think about taking a trip to California. _She wanted to move there, maybe I can go there for her._

You haven't truly settled into your new apartment. It's closer to the diner so that you can come in on short notice when someone calls in sick. You have days that the world comes crashing down from William's death to being a bad mother, to reliving burying your baby. You remember yelling at David to leave and then the day that he did. You remember walking down the hallway one last time moving out of your home that was once built from love... You take your medication and force yourself to move on with the day with no emotion or much care… this, is living… this, this is just getting by.

You walk up to the table and on auto-pilot, like every day, you welcome them to the diner and ask what they would like. The woman speaks to you, she says your name; it's a voice you haven't heard in a long time. You look down and see a woman, her eyes are sunken and rimmed in dark color. _She hasn't slept_. She's underweight and looking so tired. She speaks to you again, "Hi Joyce, how have you been?"

You look down at Max Caulfield, your daughter's friend, and you feel tears coming on again. She stands and gives you a warm hug, glad to see you. It's been a long time since someone has hugged you. 

You take her order and promise to be back with coffee. She spends the rest of your shift there in the booth area that was once their spot. You keep refilling her coffee during your shift as she writes in her journal. On one of your breaks, you sit with your own coffee and talk about each other's lives. The changes, good and bad, and the struggles with everyday life. You learn that she had given up on photography and is working at a cafe in Seattle. She's living alone. She, like you, is still in therapy and struggles with depression and PTSD. You feel guilty that your daughter died in front of her and now this woman has to live with it each day. You blame yourself that you were not there for your daughter; that if you were a better mother she would've never even been in the washroom in the first place.

Max mentions that she dropped by the old house, not realizing you sold the place and that you and David were divorced. She met the new family that lives there and said it looked like they were happy. You feel guilt crawl back into your mind again that you sold the place, but you tell yourself that it was an empty home with sad memories that needed to be put away and that you had to move on… _she will never be coming back._ You take one of your pills and Max pushes her water glass over to you.

Into the evening and on your last break, you sit once more with her in the booth. Max asks you a question, "If you could change things… take her place, would you?"

You reply immediately, "I would gladly trade places with her in a heartbeat." You struggle to say your daughter's name, it's been so long. "C-Chloe was too young to die, she had a full life ahead of her. I never gave her my full attention after William died. I jumped right into another relationship because I felt alone and wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Chloe started to spiral into depression; she acted out, and there were so many things I should've done to help her. I should've made her stay in therapy, I didn't push her to do so. I wanted her to be happy and not yelling at me, and not to resent me for that day when Bill died. Rachel helped her for a while, but then she… I saw Chloe spiral downward again." You look at Max with an open heart and speak to her truthfully, "Every day goes by and it's a struggle," Your voice lowers to a whisper as you fight to say the words and keep yourself from breaking down in front of Max. "I've wished and hoped and prayed that there was some way I could take her place." You wipe away your tears and take a breath to calm yourself. You get up to go back to work and squeeze Max's hand. You notice a Polaroid photo attached to her journal. It's of her in high school with a boy. She looks up at you and smiles. A tear falls from her eye. "I will miss you, Joyce. I love you."

"Love you too, Max, it was nice of you to travel down here. You take care, sweetie." You walk to the order window to retrieve an order that is ready to go. You drop a fork and bend down to retrieve it.

[Polaroid](https://i.imgur.com/T701sf4.mp4)

Your heart is beating fast as you try and comfort Frank. He has cuts and abrasions over his face. You look up and see Max walk through the diner's back room. You quickly get up and hug her. "Oh Jesus, I am so glad to see you, sweetie! Are you okay?" you ask her.

"Yes, what about you guys?" Max asked, looking around the diner.

"The Two Whales is barely standing now..." you say, then you both look outside at the tornado approaching. "I don't know if the diner is going to make it through this. Poor Officer Berry and all those people out there." You guide Max into the diner. "Okay, get your ass inside… I have to get back to this gentleman on the ground… Warren has been gathering all the first aid."

The boy replies, "It's not much, Joyce. But it's all we have."

You go back to attend another man on the floor behind the diner counter. Once you have applied some bandages and checked on Frank again, you speak to Max, "Come on, Max. Let's talk over here and give Frank some resting space." You walk around the counter to try and comfort Max, but she comforts you.

"Joyce, how are you doing?" she asks.

"Just when I think I've already been through the ringer…" Your thoughts go to your daughter and your heart races. "Where's Chloe?"

"She's... safe, Joyce. She just sent me a text before my phone died, she's in a safe place."

You feel so relieved. "Oh, thank God... I was torturing myself before you showed up. Oh God, if something happened to Chloe, I don't know what I'd do with myself."

Max hugs you. "She will always be safe with me, I promise you that."

You smile to comfort Max. "I know she will, sweetie." You look over at Warren, who is looking at Max. "I think Warren wants to talk with you." 

Max is reluctant to go to him. She looks at you. "I love you, Joyce."

You smile and brush Max's hair out of her eyes like you did when she was a child. "Love you too, sweetie. Everything is going to be alright, we will get through this." You squeeze her hand and she walks over to Warren to talk with him. 

You overhear her, "Warren, stay in the diner, don't leave, it's too late."

"I-I don't understand, Max, why did you come down here?"

"I had to, Warren, there's something that I have to do now, just promise me that you won't leave." Max turns to you and she asks, "Do you know how to turn off the gas to the diner? I, ahh, heard that it's not safe to have the gas running-"

"Oh Lord, Max, you're right!" You start to stand up and Warren volunteers, "I can do that, Joyce." You thank the boy and he quickly goes to the kitchen.

Max looks down at you and smiles. "I'm gonna give Chloe a call to let her know I'm with you." She takes out her phone and walks into the backroom. You feel grateful that Max is checking up on Chloe.

Minutes later, the tornado has reached the beach. The diner shakes, windows break and the room begins to rumble. You call for Max to take cover as you hide behind the counter. You see part of the roof is being hauled away from its framework and you look up at the tornado. There's no way you're going to get through this. You feel a sense of calm wash over your body. You close your eyes and you feel an embrace of an old love holding you. Chloe is safe and she will live through this and you are at peace knowing that. In a flash, you relive Chloe's birth. You see your daughter for the first time, crying as she is placed in your arms. Her first birthday, eating a mouthful of cake, giggling. Her first word… 'Momma.' Tumbling in the park with a new friend, Maxine. Playing pirates around the house as William chases after the two girls. Going to school, hand in hand with Max. The smile that Chloe gives you when you tuck her into bed… "Love you, Mom, g'night." You feel nothing but love for her and happiness as your world slowly fades to black…

_*Beep… beep… beep… beep*_

You open your eyes. The world is blurry for a bit as everything comes back into focus with a few blinks. You see Chloe standing over you, worried. She's holding your hand. "Mom?" She brushes the hair away from your forehead, being so careful with you. "You're okay. You're safe in the hospital. David is just gone to get some coffee."

A tear falls from the corner of your eye, seeing your child safe and alive. Your throat is dry but you manage to say the words, "Love you." You make a promise then and there to yourself that you will help her through anything. Chloe smiles back. "Love you, too." You see Max standing on the other side of the bed, pale, with dark-rimmed eyes and looking worse for wear like she should also be in a hospital bed. You tell yourself that your girls are alive and are okay. The two lean down and gently embrace you… you see this as a second chance and you will make the most of it this time.

**Author's Note:**

> **Other stories, check em' out** | **Music Playlists**  
> ---|---  
> [Adrenaline](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131271) | **Life is Strange - Pricefield**  
> [And That's How I Would Do It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24501835) |  [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ohME6aIJFML0ekXf0nZzF)  
> [Belly Button](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683547) |  [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLNcn8xzWbTEZzA99kgxVbMBcylMw3On6v)  
> [Chloe Claus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306863) |   
> [Life is Saw](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893310/chapters/49664687) |   
> [Moving Forward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871243) | **Chloe Price - Priceless**  
> [Social Distancing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266878/chapters/58484278) |  [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1oQOVxgWOdH03rrjTUC8eR?si=zp73LwzyS16j2VedBOUCow)  
> [Tagged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817673/chapters/57227440) |  [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLNcn8xzWbTEY_YbjrjTAH5znCwDScqoUD)  
> [The Chase **NEW!**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479217/chapters/61805629) |   
> [This Action Will Have Consequences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360968/chapters/43474439) |   
> [Watchers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919501/chapters/60305110) |   
> | 


End file.
